


Of All The Bars In Bricksburg

by sparkywritesficss



Category: The LEGO Movie (2014)
Genre: M/M, also hardcore kissing, meetcute at a bar, oh also alcohol but nothing big, well not really but ? kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-13 23:13:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13580949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkywritesficss/pseuds/sparkywritesficss
Summary: Bad Cop goes to a club. Emmet's there. Good Cop encourages him.A gay old time ensues.





	Of All The Bars In Bricksburg

**Author's Note:**

> blame/thank niko rhys and marty 4 this one babes this was based of a lego photography image of benny at a strip club that happened to have emmet and bad cop in the background at a bar
> 
> also my hc for gcbc is that he has DID, so in this fic when he's talking to good cop he's talking to him in their shared mindscape and bc is, well obviously fronting in this
> 
> also i wrote this at 3 am, we're going no proofread mode. * brickowski voice * let's do this

Bad Cop wasn’t usually what one would call a “fan” of Bricksburg’s nightclub scene. Most, if not all of them, seemed to be too much of something or other: too loud, or too crowded, or too posh for Bad. Normally, Le Bloq wouldn’t be more than a blip on the policeman’s radar; a stop only made if it was absolutely necessary. 

Yet there was a certain charm in the air tonight of the smoky interior of Le Bloq. The normally pulsating, rowdy scene was more laid-back on this Saturday. Sure, there was shitty pop music blasting in the back, and sure, there was a blue-shirted citizen throwing fat stacks of cash at a dancer on stage. But there seemed to be a kind of warmth and familiarity to it, akin to the feeling Bad got when he put on his old uniform jacket each morning. A worn-in feeling. 

Even with the construction worker that dizzily whirled into the barstool next to him, the sparkle in his eyes and hearty laugh making Bad’s heart leap in a way that felt foreign and near-frightening, there was still a recognizability to him. He registered to the police officer as Emmet Brickowski, of course, but Bad had never seen him like… this.

Flushed cheeks. Giggly breaths. And a head that seemed to bob to the beat of the speakers.

Emmet Brickowski - goody two shoes extraordinaire and savior of the Realms - was buzzed at a bar in the middle of downtown Bricksburg.

He also happened to be catching glances at Bad out of the corner of his eye, too. Were they thinking the same thing? Having the same odd realization - that Bad was more than just the cold, strict chief of police? Bad stirred his Long Island, his brows furrowing in thought. 

_He certainly couldn’t be checking you out, could he?_ A friendly voice chirped in the back of his head. Good always had fucking impeccable timing when it came to these things. 

**In what universe, Good?** Bad mumbled back, **The lad’s followed the instructions his whole life, I’d be surprised if he’s ever heard the word “gay” in his life.**

 _That doesn't mean diddly squat and you know it. You remember back in the Business days how things were._ Bad Cop could almost see Good Cop’s sly grin.

He gave another look to Emmet. He wasn’t in his construction outfit like he normally was, but rather a flannel button down and relaxed khakis. His normally clean cut hairstyle seemed to have a certain wave and tousle to it, too. Bad could see the toned muscles of Emmet’s arms, the nervous shifting of his hands. Interestingly, he noticed that Emmet was sipping from a glass of Vodka Soda. 

_With a bloody fucken’ straw_ , Good added. 

Yet that didn’t seem to matter to Bad. It was almost… cute. No, it was definitely cute. Maybe it was the way the club lighting seemed to cast a glow around the Special, but Bad Cop seemed to be absolutely entranced by him. Each chuckle, each movement, each flicker and sway made the chief’s heart melt. 

_Talk to him. Flirt with him._

You know I can’t- 

_He’s an amateur at best, he won’t mind rusty skills. Give it a go, see how it feels!_

He inhaled deeply. Good was right, but, there were so many what ifs. So much holding him back, so many anxieties, so many things that could go completely and horribly wrong. 

**Fuck it. Okay. Alright. Okay.**

Bad knocked back the last of his Long Island and made his way over to Emmet, hands barely steadying even with the wave of alcohol humming through his throat. Whether the blush creeping over his cheeks now was a result of that or the nervousness in his chest didn’t seem to matter. He was gay, he was so utterly gay, and so utterly unprepared for what the moment ahead held.  
“Brick- erhm,” Bad cop managed to cough out, getting the attention of the construction worker, “Brickowski, hey.”  
“Bad Cop!” Emmet exclaimed gleefully, pulling the chief into a seat next to him in one swift movement. “What brings you here tonight, dude?”  
“Jus’ passing through here, having a glass or two, uhm, what about you?” Emmet’s arm shifted closer to his on the counter, the accidental brush of skin sending electric bolts through Bad’s being.  
“Aw, yeah, me too,” Emmet brushed a stray hair behind his ear, “I usually don’t go out like this but Lucy said that it might be fun for me to try stuff like this, y’know, all the other awesome things that I’ve missed out on.”  
“Are you enjoying it?”  
“Y-yeah!” Emmet beamed, “It’s a lot more fun now with you here, though.” He shifted his fingers closer to Bad’s, almost holding them.

Bad Cop felt his heart skip a beat. Coherent speech seemed to explode into the nether in his mind, the epicenter at the sensation of Emmet Brickowski sitting very, very close next to him.

“I, uhm, so… what was… what is it… what is it like being a construction worker?” Bad Cop garbled out awkwardly.

_Christ Almighty, Bad._

Emmet’s initially puzzled look softened into a grin. “Oh dude, it’s so cool! Things are weird ‘cause of the whole being the Special thing sometimes but I don’t think I could ever trade it for anything else.”  
Bad Cop nodded. “Ah- continue, if you’d like.”  
Emmet smiled. “I’m just a ground worker, right?” Bad nodded. Emmet swirled his straw through the glass in front of him. “So, I don’t get much control over the finished product - the plans, all that. I really enjoy the feeling of being a part of creating something bigger though. Being in a team. Like, I never really thought of it in that way before the Master Builders and everything, but there’s such a special feeling about being a part of a team.”  
“I… I feel that too.” Bad agreed, in awe of the construction worker before him. “It’s hard, it takes time for me. I won’t lie about that, but… the Master Builders, I feel at home with them. And that I’m doing something important.”  
“Something special.” The two chuckled, their gazes cast to the side. Silence fell as soft as a blanket, the cacophony of the club a distant planet. There was something beautiful to their awkwardness, how it contained its own kind of conversation.  
“Nobody’s ever asked me that before.” Emmet blurted out, snapping them back to the world of the bar. A pop ballad crooned from the speakers behind them.  
“Really?”  
“No, yeah, never. Everybody wants to hear about saving the world,” A brief weariness passed over the Special’s countenance, “not about anything before, or after, for that matter.”  
“Wh… you’re joking.”  
“Nope. Dead serious.” He turned his head to the counter, tracing a pattern with his finger. “Everybody likes the hero, the Special. Nobody likes Emmet Brickowski.”  
Bad Cop turned this over in his head. How this could be made no sense to him. Sense seemed to begin to elude him as the alcohol began to work it’s sickly sweet magic.  
Bad slapped his palm against the table, straightening up to face Emmet. “Well, that’s just stupid! How could anyone not want to listen to you? You’re darn friendly! Darned c-cool!” his voice wavered for a moment, his eyes catching Emmet’s, then declared, “An’ how could any dipshit not _like_ you? Anyone would be a _dummy_ not to just grab yer face and _smooch you_ , man!”

Emmet nearly fell off of his barstool, the lacquered wood seeming to sway beneath him. The ballad - the stupid-ass ballad - playing crescendoed into a wailing A major as time seemed to slow down to a halt. Five seconds felt like five centuries for Bad Cop. 

**This was a mistake. This was a horrible, horrible mistake.**

Emmet looked frantically around the bar. Emmet looked frantically back to Bad.

**This was a terrible mistake and I’m never going to talk to anyone ever again.**

Emmet squeezed his eyes shut, balled his fists tight. Took a deep, deep breath.

**I await God striking me down to the dirt with baited breath. I await ye, Dear Lord.**

Emmet leaned in. 

**This was a-**

Emmet kissed him. 

His lips pressed so softly against Bad’s that he almost didn’t notice at first - it was so quick that his body could barely react. Could barely kick the engine of adrenaline into first gear and make his skin shiver with static. 

“I- you- Brickowski- that’s-”

“Alleyway.” Emmet sputtered out, grabbing his hand. 

“The what?” Bad had lost all feeling in his legs but somehow managed to stumble into motion.

Somehow, too, time sped up to its’ regular gait, flinging the two through the hot crowds and hazy air to the alley outside. Flinging them into an embrace: tender yet passionate, as careful and deliberate as two drunk guys could manage to be. Yet to Bad, it was perfect: it was everything he could have hoped and dreamed for. It rushed through him like a current, each new wave threatening to shatter him and renew him at the same time.

They broke apart, flushed cheeks and giggly between breaths.

Bad Cop - the stoic, cold, chief of Police - had just made out with the Special.


End file.
